Rebuilding In Spring
by Oratorio
Summary: "I am not the Mockingjay now, not the Girl On Fire. I'm just a girl, kissing a boy and trying not to fall in love". A quick story detailing the end of Mockingjay, pre-epilogue, between Katniss and Peeta. Rated M for high sexual content in Ch3
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** This is my first ever piece of fan fiction, I am not used to writing at all other than academic documents, so I hope people enjoy the story. Basically, this is a bit of a "quickie" in terms of a fan fic, as in everything happens quite fast, but it seems I am a bit of a perv and wanted to know in detail what went on between Peeta and Katniss before the "After" sentence at the end of Mockingjay... so it kinda flew out like this. I'm hoping to write more in depth fan fiction in the future really trying to get a handle on the characters and their journey, but this is a starting point which scratched the itch to write the dirty stuff... be warned, it IS quite graphic (but done, I hope, quite tenderly).

I would *really* appreciate any reviews or comments, as I said I am a total noob at this stuff :)

As ever, copyright of the Hunger Games and all characters is with Suzanne Collins, and I make no money from this story.

Oratorio

* * *

I wake to the sound of screaming and sit bolt upright, sheets slipping from my sweating body and pooling on the floor. Breathing hard, shaking, I stare into the gloom, suddenly afraid to get up, trying to understand what's going on and who is in so much pain. It takes me a few minutes to realise that it was me.

Pieces of the dream come back to me – wolf-like creatures, mouths full of flesh; burning wedding dresses, the flames white hot - and in the middle of it all my sister, stretching her arms out to me…

I should have protected her. How could I have lived and not her, my innocent sister, so much better than I will ever be.

My shudders subside into sobs as I rock backwards and forwards in the dark. I wrap my arms around myself tightly, and gasp as a sudden desire for another's arms overtakes me. Peeta, I think. I remember the nights on the train when his arms made everything feel okay. I feel so alone. "Peeta," I whisper, into the dark, "Where are you… I need you."

I don't remember falling asleep, but I wake to tendrils of sunlight forcing their way through the gaps in the blinds, making my puffy and swollen eyes sting. I groan and turn over in the bed, grasping for the pillow to block out the rays. As I rise from sleep, a noise from outside my window makes me freeze in fear. There is someone in my garden. Thoughts race through my head – who could be here, are they spying on me, have they come for me, is my trial not over? Panic grips me, tight in my throat. I race to my bathroom, lock the door.

Sitting on the cold, tiled floor with my back pressed tight against the bathroom door, I try desperately to calm myself down. Taking deep breaths. Trying to think rationally. Who is in my garden? Haymitch, perhaps. Unlikely. He rarely sets foot outside his own house these days, and if he wanted to see me he would probably just barge straight in. He isn't the sort to lurk in the flowerbeds.

Eventually I manage to convince myself that if this person wished to harm me, they would not be scuffling around underneath my bedroom window so noisily and for so long.

Tentatively, I step back into my bedroom and creep over to the window. Lifting a corner of the blinds, I peer out, blinking in the sudden daylight.

There he is, bending over my flowerbeds, the sun glinting on his golden hair. My breath catches in my throat as I watch his muscles flex as he digs into the black soil. Am I still asleep, dreaming? No, my dreams are never like this. Not any more. He is really here, as if my whispers in the night had called him to me. I press my fingers to the glass. He notices the movement and straightens up, covering his eyes with one hand as he squints and smiles at me through the window. He looks different, he is thinner and I can see the ridges of scars on his arms, but it's still my Peeta.

I half-run, half stagger down the stairs, thoughts tumbling through my head. Joy at Peeta being here again, fear of the memories that seeing him might bring. He is already at my door when I fling it wide. Waiting for me, that beautiful smile that I remember so well. So far from the twisted hatred he flung at me in District 13. He looks like the real Peeta. He has mud on his hands.

"I was planting some of these. I found them in the woods and just thought… I hope you don't mind," Peeta holds up what appears to be a tangle of roots and earth, but I see yellow petals and know what he has brought. Primroses. I feel my eyes fill with tears again. I step forward and without thinking I wrap my arms tight around his waist and bury my face in his chest. I can smell him, warm and masculine, and I breathe him in. So familiar, yet so new. The realisation of how much I have missed him hits me like a physical pain.

"Hey, you," Peeta huffs into my ear, smiling broadly, unable to hide his surprise and pleasure at being welcomed so fulsomely. "I missed you," he tells me, stroking my tangled hair. I smile up at him, "I'm glad you're here". It doesn't seem enough, but I can barely understand the emotions running through me. Right now, it's all I can give him. He seems satisfied, and hugs me tightly.

We're sitting around the kitchen table, smiling at each other, awkward, not knowing what to say. I want to touch him, and I don't know why. It's comforting having him here in my house, but it doesn't feel like comfort that I want to reach out for. There's a knot in my stomach and tears keep threatening to spring from my eyes, but for once I am not sad.

I have made us both hot chocolate and he curls his hands around the warmth of the mug. I watch his long, graceful fingers and feel an odd twinge in my belly. I am remembering again the nights spent in those arms, and how lonely I have been since returning to District 12.

"It's been a long time since I have had this, I had forgotten how good it was," I tell him. He smiles and takes a gulp of his drink, "It really is delicious, Katniss!" But I am not talking about the hot chocolate.

"So…"

What can I say? "How have you been" just seems insulting. I know from inside my own head what the answer to that question would be. I feel helpless; I was never any good with words. I know this man so well, why is this so difficult?

Fortunately Peeta rescues me. "I'm doing OK, Katniss. It's taken me a long time to get to this point, and I'm never going to be the person I was before, but Dr Aurelius has helped me so much. I'm healing. I'm more in control now, and while I don't always like myself much, at least it is me". His hand is on his heart now, and he is still looking at me intently.

Before I can reply, he continues, "But never mind me. I want to know about you. I've never stopped thinking about you, all the time I was cooped up in the hospital. You've been right there with me in my thoughts, pulling me through, just as you always have. But who's been there for you? I feel so bad it's taken me this long to get here to you. I want to make it up to you. I owe you everything and I need to make it up to you."

I stare at the table, flushed. "Haymitch has been here," I offer, weakly. "He's right next door, he came back with me". Peeta tilts my chin back and looks me in the eye. We both know that Haymitch isn't capable of caring for anyone else. He can barely look after himself.

"Well. I'm here now," Peeta says, firmly. "And I'm not going anywhere".

I rise and look out of the kitchen window, embarrassed by Peeta's certainty and feeling that I have done nothing to deserve this man's devotion. I watch the newly planted primroses reaching their golden plumage out from the shade of the kitchen wall to the meet the sun's afternoon rays, and am envious. I can't be in the sun, burning with its love and warmth. I live my life in the shade.

* * *

Peeta's declaration earlier seemed to break down the walls between us, and we were soon back to how we used to be, talking and teasing each other, remembering our friendship. He has gone back to his house in the Victor's Village tonight, leaving me sitting alone in front of the fireplace staring into nothingness. I feel more alone tonight than I have for months. It feels as if I have found a missing piece only to drop the whole jigsaw, shattering it into pieces. These feelings are new. I thought I had experienced everything – happiness, anger, raw grief and pain, loneliness and fear. So what is this, that has settled itself into my belly? I am confused and don't know what to think.

It's well past midnight by the time I rise from my chair and stumble up the stairs, weary and wrung-out with emotion. I shower for a very long time – I have still not got used to this luxury –and change into a long grey t-shirt before climbing into my bed, which is still a rumpled mess from last night's bad dream.

I can't sleep. I see faces in the darkness: Finnick's bronze hair and sparkling green eyes and vivid, torn open throat; Prim dancing in agony in the flames, screaming; Snow laughing as he died, blood on his lips, laughing and laughing…

Nothing can stop the whirl of faces, of voices. I try singing, louder, until it turns into a scream. Tears are leaking from my eyes through the fingers I am pressing into them, trying desperately to erase the images.

"_Are you, are you coming to the tree_

_Where they strung up a man they say murdered three_

_Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree"_

In the end, I do the only thing I can think of to make the nightmares go away.

Peeta finds me, barefoot and wearing only a T-shirt and underwear, standing shivering and limp with exhaustion on his doorstep in the middle of the night.

"I'm sorry," I tell him, "I didn't know what else to do."

He understands without saying a word, and pulls me into his arms, into his bed. There, I finally sleep, fitfully but without waking, curled into his body that feels like home.

* * *

It's another bright, sunlit morning when I wake still wrapped in Peeta's arms. He is asleep, but is murmuring softly into my hair. I cannot catch the words. I have slept better than I have for months, with no lingering memories of my dreams. I sigh deeply, grateful for Peeta's calmness and steady presence. As I gently untangle myself from his arms, trying not to wake him, I kiss him lightly on his shoulder. Returning from the bathroom, I see him peering at me through one half-open eye. He is smiling. I smile back, and he pulls me back down on to the bed. "I love you, Katniss Everdeen", he tells me, contentedly. "I know," I reply, resting my head on his chest.

I must have fallen asleep again, for the sun is in the middle of the sky when my eyes open for a second time that day. I am alone in the bed, the sheets gathered around my legs. For a moment, I panic, wondering where I am, but I hear the clinking of pots and pans from downstairs and remember I am in Peeta's bed. The thought sends a shiver down my spine and I get that odd feeling in my belly again. Peeta's bed. The sheets smell of him and I hug them tightly to my chest and inhale deeply before kicking them off and padding lightly down to the kitchen.

Peeta is bending over the oven, pulling out a tray. There is a delicious savoury smell of warm doughy cheese, making my mouth water. He has made cheese buns. He has not forgotten that they are my favourite. For some reason, this makes my eyes prickle once again, and I quickly rub them and hope he didn't notice.

I hop on to the kitchen table, legs swinging, and grab a hot roll, biting into it and closing my eyes at the taste of the warm comforting bread releasing its flavours into my mouth. "Still my favourite, Peeta," I mumble through a mouthful of roll, "You bake the most amazing things".

"Hey!" Peeta laughs good-naturedly, "Who says I made them for you?"

I grin at him and pick up a roll, weighing it in my hand before narrowing my eyes and throwing it at his head. He catches it deftly, and makes a grab for me as I wriggle off the table and run to the other side of the kitchen. Peeta chases after me, and I hear myself make a sound that I don't recognise for a moment, then I realise I am laughing. It is so long since I have laughed that I almost don't remember the sensation. I surprise myself so much that I stop running, and Peeta catches me, grabbing me around the waist. We laugh together, almost becoming hysterical, out of control. It only stops when I tilt my head back to look at Peeta and he kisses me hard on the lips. I freeze for a moment, my mind goes blank, and then I am kissing him back. He moans as he feels me respond, closing his eyes and melting into my mouth. I feel his tongue start to explore, sending shivers down to my fingertips, to my toenails, and setting my whole body tingling.

I don't know if I really understand what I am doing, but his lips are so soft and his body so warm that I forget where I am and who I am. I am not the Mockingjay now, not the Girl On Fire. I'm just a girl, kissing a boy and trying not to fall in love.

Eventually we step away from each other. Peeta's eyes are moist and sparkling. He is shaking his head gently, breathing hard, and beaming wider than I have ever seen.

"You taste of cheese," he smiles. Then, more hesitantly, "Was it like that before, for us? Did we kiss like that, you know, in the Games?"

I look him in the eye, shake my head, "No". I watch his smile slide away, a small frown line appearing between his eyes. I turn from him, not looking back to see if I have caused him confusion or pain. But it is true. The kisses in the Games, they weren't real. What we have just shared now is something else entirely. But I don't know how to handle that, how to tell him, so I walk away and leave him standing in the floury kitchen among the rolls he had baked for me.

Back at my own house, I sit on the sofa scratching Buttercup's head as he tries to bite my fingers, feeling guilty and unsure of myself. I know I am hurting Peeta, and I know my behaviour is unfair, but I don't understand how I am feeling, how one minute I can feel that he is the centre of my world and I can't live without him, and then I panic and can't even bear to be near him.

I shake my head. I am a horrible person. Haymitch was right. I don't deserve him.


	2. Chapter 2

My house has never been so tidy. I've been throwing myself into the housework all day, trying to forget what happened this morning, how Peeta kissed me, how I kissed him, how it felt, how I left him there and ran away. His face keeps creeping into my mind, lost and confused. I shake my head angrily and swear under my breath. I am not good company right now, but I don't want to be alone with these thoughts as darkness falls. I decide to visit Haymitch. Maybe he will have some of his "medicine" which might help me forget for a while.

I push open Haymitch's door. He never locks it; there's nothing worth stealing anyway. As usual, I wrinkle my nose at the smell and step over what looks like several months' worth of post, calling Haymitch's name. He is asleep on the sofa, wearing only a grubby pair of pyjamas, gripping a liquor bottle and snoring loudly. I hit him with a cushion, and he comes awake with a roar. I leap back to avoid his swinging fists, calling out his name again. This is a customary greeting between Haymitch and I. He was lucky I didn't pour water on him this time.

"Bloody hell, girl, what do you think you are doing?" Haymitch spits.

"Sorry, Haymitch," I am my usual contrite self, now I have succeeded in waking him. "I just needed someone to talk to, or something to help me forget myself for a while".

"Well, now, that's a dangerous game, sweetheart," Haymitch shakes his head and pulls his liquor closer, away from me. "Besides, I thought you had Lover Boy to talk to now, huh? What are you doing here?"

I didn't realise that Haymitch knew Peeta was back, and said so.

"Hah!" he snorted, "I found out this afternoon, when he turned up on my doorstep in a helluva state. Didn't take long to find out the cause of that one, either. What are you playing at, eh, sweetheart?"

"I'm not playing at anything!" I fire, defensively. "He just turns up, out of the blue, still all about me and in love with me, or so he thinks… I don't even know who I am any more, I'm not the Katniss he thinks I am… I'm ugly and broken… I don't know how to feel and I hate him for making me feel… I don't know. I don't know." I am horrified to find I have burst into tears in front of Haymitch; horrible, big, gasping sobs.

Haymitch passes me the bottle. I take a long pull. It's disgusting; I cough for several minutes and am glad, as I try to pass off my continued tears as choking on the alcohol. I don't think Haymitch is fooled.

When I stop coughing, I look at Haymitch, expecting to see sympathy. What I see is his mouth set in a tight line, as he shakes his head at me.

"You go around like the hero, the _Mockingjay_" – he says this with a sneer – "and people say what a brave warrior you are, what an inspiration to the Districts. People want to be like you, they risk everything because of you, they die because of you, you are an idol, a symbol of hope against the Capitol and you have made people truly courageous. But what courage do_ you_ have?"

I rise from my chair, angry, about to lash out, but he raises his bottle and cuts me off.

"Sure, you have the courage to fight when you need to, to shoot, to kill. But you don't have the courage to love without fear. The boy has done all this for you. He's fought for you, suffered torture for you, killed for you. A gentle soul like him, that's not something that doesn't have an unthinkable cost. But he has never once stopped loving you, or been afraid to show you – nay, the world – how he feels. Even when he wasn't… himself… one of the things that brought him back was you. He's come back here to District 12, whatever's left of it, for you. It's always been you. No matter what you say or do, however much you hurt him. And you're too much of a coward to admit that you feel the same way about him."

I stare at him open-mouthed, stunned and deflated completely by his words. It feels like it would hurt less if he hit me over the head with his bottle. I've never heard him speak this way to me before. And it dawns on me that every word he says is true.

I spin around and race out of his house before I start crying again, and I hear him laugh out loud behind me, "Yeah, that's right sweetheart, run away. Always running."

As I sit in the dark again in my barely furnished house, with only the cat for company, I decide I need to be brave. I need to stop running.

I wake abruptly from a nightmare in the early morning light, and immediately reach out for Peeta. How quickly I have fallen back into seeking him, needing him. The empty bed beside me brings back a quick and painful memory of Haymitch's diatribe last night, the realisation of how badly I have hurt Peeta, and how I have been denying my feelings to him and to myself.

I'm on Peeta's doorstep before the sun has fully risen. He opens the door bleary-eyed, wearing his dressing gown. He doesn't look happy about being woken, and doesn't offer me a greeting. I am thrown, unsure what to say, not sure where to look. He leaves the door open as he pads off down the hallway into his kitchen. I hesitate for what seems like an eternity, afraid I have damaged what we had, but eventually take the implied invite and follow him in.

He's sitting at the kitchen table when I enter the room, breaking open a croissant. He doesn't look at me, and still hasn't said a word. I don't know where to start, but I know it's down to me. I have to make this better.

"Peeta…" I hate the sound of my own voice, it seems reedy and feeble. But I press on, "Peeta, I missed you last night. I've only just found you again and it felt like I had lost you already".

He still doesn't look at me, but I know he is listening.

"Peeta, I am not good at this sort of stuff. I know that, but I am going to try harder. I went to see Haymitch last night and he told me some home truths. And he made me realise something really important."

I cross the room and sit down in a chair next to Peeta, touch his arm. He finally looks up at me, and an expression flits across his face. I cannot tell if it is disgust or hope. It is gone in a blink, and he looks at me impassively, a muscle twitching slightly in his cheek. I try to carry on talking, my voice breaks and I start to cry. I feel like I have done too much crying in the last couple of days.

Peeta lets me cry for a long time. He makes no move to touch me or comfort me, and has still not spoken. This makes me sob even harder. When I eventually cry myself out, sniffling and choking, I know that I have to say the words. I turn to Peeta, bright red and puffy with weeping, and wait until he looks me in the eye.

"I am so sorry Peeta. Sorry for all I have put you through, when all you have ever done is love me. I know I don't have the words like you do, and I find it so hard to tell you how I feel. I can't even tell myself most of the time, as I am so scared. Everyone I have ever loved has left me in one way or another, and I never wanted to fall in love with a man, never wanted that, I'm too frightened about how much it could hurt me…"

Peeta is looking at me gently now, reaching his hand across the table to touch my fingers, hold my hand, which is shaking.

"I would never hurt you"

"I know you'd never do anything that would, not on purpose. But this life, it's just so fragile, I don't think I could stand it if I lost you. So I've been pushing you away, I thought if I could make you leave me now it would be better for both of us."

I look up at Peeta. He has tears in his eyes as he whispers, "It would be the worst thing I could possibly imagine, Katniss. I love you so much. I never want to be without you. You can't do a thing to make me leave you. You have always been the only girl for me, the only one I have ever wanted. I will always be yours, and I just hope beyond hope that one day you might feel love for me too."

I squeeze his hand, look into his beautiful blue eyes and take a deep breath.

"Peeta, I do love you. I love you with everything I have. It's not much, not now, and I'm so scared that it won't be enough, but I love you."

The tears are flowing freely again as Peeta pushes back his chair and pulls me to my feet, into an embrace. I kiss his cheeks, wet and salty, and his soft, inviting lips. We devour each other, our breath and tears mingling as we press our bodies so tightly together it feels we are melded as one. We kiss, and we kiss, and I think I could die with the feeling it brings. Peeta is out of breath, shining with love, disbelief and ecstasy warring in his eyes. He steps back, cups my cheek in his hand.

"Katniss. I never thought… never dreamed…"

He chokes up, unable to speak through tears, and then we are kissing again as if we are the only two people left in the world. I feel the room around us fade out. I close my eyes and sink into Peeta, his mouth on mine, his hands running up and down my back, moving over my scars, as I push myself against him. He tastes warm and sweet, and I feel like my body has become transparent, is breaking apart. Everything I am is laid before him now. And he is still loving me. I finally understand what this means, and know that the love I have for him is true. I feel it bubbling up inside me, freed from my thawing heart, to finally be expressed and enjoyed. Maybe it had always been there, and it took Haymitch of all people to make me see it.

We spend the rest of the day lying on the sofa, kissing and holding each other, Peeta never quite losing the expression of wonder that makes my heart thump even more. "Stay with me?" he whispers, and I nod. I want to sleep beside him tonight, the man I love.


	3. Chapter 3

I'm lying between cool, fresh sheets in Peeta's bed, wearing one of his old T-shirts, waiting for him to come out of the bathroom. The sheets are cotton, gentle on my skin, and I feel more relaxed than I have since before this all started. Peeta is singing in the shower, a pure voice full of warmth, just like him.

"_There is a house built out of stone  
Wooden floors, walls and window sills  
Tables and chairs worn by all of the dust  
This is a place where I don't feel alone  
This is a place where I feel at home_

_Out in the garden where we planted the seeds  
There is a tree that's old as me  
Branches were sewn by the colour of green  
Ground had arose and passed its knees_

_By the cracks of the skin I climbed to the top  
I climbed the tree to see the world  
When the gusts came around to blow me down  
I held on as tightly as you held onto me  
I held on as tightly as you held onto me"**_

Finally he cranks the water off, and I smile as he opens the bathroom door. My easy smile freezes as I look at him, standing in front of me, wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist, beads of moisture from the shower shining on his cooling skin. My breath stops in my throat as my eyes roam down his body, taking in his lean muscles, his pale freckled chest dusted with golden hairs, his twisting scars, the seam where his prosthetic leg meets his skin. He is beautiful, and I am overwhelmed by a sudden desire to touch him with my fingers, with my mouth. He hovers, half-smiling but shy and unsure, looking at my face for a reaction. I realise that I am staring soundlessly, and mentally shake myself to break the spell.

"Peeta," I hold out my hand to him, and he sighs and moves forward to meet me, "You are so beautiful". He takes my hand and gazes at me, his face a mixture of relief and joy, tears in his eyes again. I stretch out my other hand and touch my fingers to his chest, stroking them lightly across his damp skin. He gasps softly, and closes his eyes. I am emboldened, and run my hand flat down his belly until I feel the roughness of the towel against my fingers.

I lean forward and press my mouth against his stomach. He shivers against me and tenses, his skin pebbling under my lips. I raise my eyes to his, and find them still closed, his head tilted back slightly, his breaths coming in shallow, hitching gulps. "Is this okay?" I ask him, softly.

"Okay, Katniss?" he whispers, "It's more than okay…". His voice trails off, and he swallows hard.

My tongue traces the line of wiry blond hair running from his navel, down to the edge of the towel. Peeta makes a strangled noise deep in his throat. I can sense his hardness, his desire for me. I suddenly want to see all of him, and in one quick movement I pull his towel from his waist and let it drop to the floor. Peeta's eyes spring open, and his mouth opens in surprise, but he does not back away. I know I am staring again but I can't help it. I've never looked at a man in this way before. My body is thrumming with excitement and fear. What am I doing? Before I can answer that question, I lean forward and place a gentle kiss on the tip of Peeta's maleness. It twitches against my lips, and Peeta groans deeply, "Oh Katniss". His voice is thick and muffled with emotion. I am encouraged by his obvious need, and I reach out to take him in my hand.

He feels hot to my touch, velvety smooth but solid. I slide my hand fully along his length, hesitant, unsure I am doing this right. "Katniss, please…" Peeta half-sobs, looking down at me as if I am the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. I suddenly realise that is exactly how he feels, and it makes me feel full, makes me brave.

My hand is moving against him, feeling every texture, every ridge. He is leaking moisture on to my fingers and this makes my touch slippery, which seems to excite him even more. He has stopped saying my name, but is instead making small "oh" noises deep in his throat as I run my fingers back and forth. There is wetness between my own legs, and a tightness in my belly. I never knew I could feel this way.

I lean forward then, and wrap my mouth around him, replacing my hand with my warm, moist lips. He calls out, wordlessly. I slide him deeper into my mouth, feeling his tip grazing along my tongue. He tastes salty, hot, like nothing I have ever dreamed of. I run my lips along his skin, feeling him buck against me, feeling him throb and twitch. He is alive in my mouth, every inch of him, I am closer to him than I have ever been. Suddenly he calls out, "Katniss… stop…". I am momentarily confused, then understand what is happening, and smile against him, moving my tongue over his heat. He tries to pull away, and I shake my head gently, gripping his hips with my hands to hold him still and take him further in. He cries my name, loud and long, and I feel my mouth fill with his seed. There is so much of it. I drink it in, taking it all from him, until he softens in my mouth and I gently release him, sucking lightly as my lips pull away.

I look up into his eyes. He is crying silently, tears coursing down his cheeks, but he looks radiant. He is perfect.

"You are amazing, Katniss. I love you," Peeta collapses on the bed beside me, leaning over to kiss me deeply. I kiss him back, full of pride that I have managed to make him feel this way. As our tongues twine around each other, I become aware again of the ache within my own body. I break the kiss and move away from him, lying back on the bed, grinning as I lean down to pull at the hem of the oversized T-shirt. Peeta's eyes widen as he realises what I am doing and I hear him draw in a sharp breath.

I am smiling at him, but inside I am churning with fear. I know I am not the girl he fell in love with, back when he risked a beating to bring me bread. I don't even recognise myself any more, I can't look in a mirror and my body is a mass of scars. Will he still think I am beautiful when he has really seen me?

I pause, gaze at his rapt expression, feel my eyes slide over his body. I see how handsome he is, understand that his scars are part of him, and that I love _every_ part of him. We have been through so much together, our shared history drawing us closer. We are who we are. I steel myself and pull the T-shirt up over my head, throwing it on to the floor in one fluid movement. Peeta exhales loudly, I realise he has been holding his breath waiting for me to reveal myself.

"Oh, Katniss," his voice catches. "Look at you. You're the most wonderful, amazing… you are beautiful. I am the luckiest man alive". As he says these words, he peppers my skin with kisses – my neck, my shoulder. I feel his gentle lips running over my scars, kissing them, kissing me, loving me. For the first time in months, years, maybe ever, I_ feel_ beautiful.

I arch my back as Peeta's kisses roam lower, I am silently begging him to kiss me all over my body, new feelings of desire washing over me like flood water. I gasp out loud when he gently takes one of my nipples into his mouth, rolling it around on his tongue. I hear a strange keening sound, and realise it is me. He kisses both my breasts, moving from one to the other, stroking the soft skin with his lips and teasing my nipples. He is moaning quietly against my body, heightening my arousal. I grab for his hand, impatient. He puffs a laugh against my chest, but understands my need and begins to caress my thighs with his fingers, making me wait. I am writhing beneath him now, alight with desire. I am a stranger to myself, this behaviour. It is delicious, it is alien. I do not care.

He pushes my thighs apart gently, and I stiffen as I feel his fingertips start to explore the folds of my sex. "Wow," Peeta breathes, "you're so… you feel incredible". I am soaking wet and feel like I am burning up again, from the inside this time. I relax into the touch of his hands, and he strokes and teases me gently as he continues to drop kisses all over my body. He explores, delves, and then I cry his name as he finds the little nub that sends waves of pure pleasure racing through my whole body. He smiles up at me as he gently rubs around it with one finger, enjoying watching me thrash and moan. He has never seen me like this. It is obviously having an effect on him, too, as I can feel he is hard again, pressing against my thigh.

When he lowers his head between my legs I feel I might not be able to bear it, but I do, raising my hips and opening myself to his warm mouth as he kisses me in the most private of places, pushing his tongue into me, running it all over me, softly sucking until I feel a ball of flame building inside, pushing out of me. Then I am exploding, lights in my head, the most incredible sensations racing through every pore, every cell of my body. I completely let go for the first time in my life, swept away by these feelings, powerless and vulnerable yet so free.

I am shuddering against Peeta's touch, I never knew it would be like this, never thought I could feel so close to a man, so in love with him. My whole body is shaking with emotion.

Peeta moves slowly up my body, still caressing me, and pulls me tightly into his arms. He kisses my lips, my cheeks, my eyelids. I cling to him, tell him I love him, over and over again. He holds me tight, tracing patterns on my skin, until I calm. He whispers that he loves me too, and I turn in his arms pressing myself against his body, skin to skin.

"Peeta,". I look at his flushed, happy face, see the love shining there. "Please, Peeta, I need to feel all of you now. I need you."

He gazes steadily back at me, although I can see my words have had an effect.

"Have you ever - ?" he asks, quietly.

"What do you think?" I am momentarily defensive again, embarrassed by the question.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't…" He pauses, looks away. "If it makes you feel better, I've not done this either. I've only ever wanted you. Never dreamed it would happen."

I pull him close, kissing him deeply, "Not only the bad dreams are true".

He rolls me over, leaning over me, staring deeply into my eyes. Moving his solid, warm body between my thighs. My Peeta. I never break eye contact with him as he readies himself and moves gently forward. I feel him stretch me, feel him start to push into my wetness. The look on his face is glazed, otherworldly. He is going slowly, and I can see him savouring every sensation, imprinting this moment in his mind. I gasp as he reaches my barrier, and he pauses, "Katniss, are you okay?". I smile at him and echo his words from earlier as I pull him deeper into me, breaking through.

"Oh Peeta, I'm more than okay…".

There is a sharp pain, then I relax and start to enjoy the sensation of being joined with him. We have been through so much together, but this is the first time we have been truly as one.

He is saying my name, whispering it into my ear as he leans into me, sliding deeply into me, as deep as he can. Pulling out until he almost leaves my body. I don't want this, I want him to stay, so I grab at him desperately and he pushes deep again, touching every part of me. I lose myself in him, in his smell, his sweat, his arms. His hair is falling over his face as he moves in me, cheeks glowing, eyes focused and intense. I wrap my legs around him, finding a rhythm, feeling the pleasure build in me.

He thrusts deeper, faster, and I rise to meet him, bucking my hips against his body until he cries out. I feel him tense, spasm inside me and then the warmth of him filling me up. He is breathing hard, speechless as he looks at me, delirious with our love. I pull him down so his head rests on my breast, and stroke his hair as the tears come once more. I hear him murmur against my skin, "You love me. Real or not real?". I smile sadly at that, remembering the confusion and the terror of his hijacking, knowing that it is in our past now as I answer him, "Real".

That night, curled in his strong, safe arms, I sleep soundly and dreamlessly.

** - To Build A Home, by Cinematic Orchestra. Copyright remains with author.


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